


Soldier

by TotalFanGirl221B



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, RAF AU (sort of? references of it at least)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 14:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3813454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotalFanGirl221B/pseuds/TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin was acting strange today. Really strange. Not his usual strange, definitely not. A different uncomfortable strange, and it annoyed Douglas that he just couldn’t quite put his finger on why Martin was acting so strangely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Cabin Pressure or any of the wonderful characters, unfortunately!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of the fic is from a song by Gavin DeGraw 'Soldier' - you should listen to it!!! :D Hope you enjoy the fic - see you on the flip side!

Martin was acting strange today. _Really_ strange. Not his usual strange, definitely not. A different _uncomfortable_ strange, and it annoyed Douglas that he just couldn’t quite put his finger on _why_ Martin was acting so strangely.

                Douglas had entered the portakabin a few minutes – fifteen, to be precise – late, to find Martin sat at his desk, thrumming the fingers of his left hand on the desk whilst impatiently waiting for a text on the phone he held with his right. All while paperwork sat in front of him, with barely anything on it. _That_ in itself was unusual – Martin was incredibly pedantic when it came to paperwork. But what was even more unusual was the fact that Martin had started texting furiously a few minutes Douglas had entered, without giving him a lecture about being so late. Clearly it hadn’t bothered the pilot so much this time, but _why?_ Douglas’ punctuality was a constant bother for Martin. Of course, Douglas had little time to ponder on this as Carolyn _had_ noticed his lateness, and _had_ something to say about it. “Douglas!” she started angrily. “I told you you’d better be here by eight.” She stated furiously, and then shook her head. Then, she paused. Douglas knew why; she was waiting for Martin to intervene. Of course, when he did, she would immediately tell him to shut up and carry on with her rant at Douglas, but she was used to doing that – used to Martin joining in, if only for a few seconds. But nothing. The pilot ceased to interrupt, or even look over. She turned to him, and Douglas knew he was let off. Though, he was also quite intrigued by the captain’s strange behaviour already, and so couldn’t care less.

“Martin?” Carolyn had her hands on her hips, staring intently at Martin, who was now smashing his fingers on the keypad of his phone. “Martin!” he looked up instantly with a panicked look in his eyes. “What are you doing? Douglas is _late!”_ Martin scanned her for a moment, trying to search for the correct answer as if it were written on her face, but there was nothing but pure confusion in his eyes, and he gave her a curious look, as if he didn’t actually know what to say. But he _did._ He _always_ did. “Aren’t you going to say something? You normally have some sort of rant ready for precisely this moment!”

“Weren’t y-you just telling him?” Martin shrugged. Now it was Carolyn’s turn to look confused – and even Douglas’. After a few moments of watching him, searching for an answer herself, she sighed.

“Right, right yes.” Martin tried to smile. Again, _that w_ as odd. He couldn’t even muster a proper smile. _Something_ was definitely wrong. Carolyn turned back to Douglas, exasperated, and just sighed. “Just get ready, the passengers will be here soon.” Had Martin really confused Carolyn so much that she actually _backed down?_ That was new.

* * *

 

“So, Martin, everything _alright?”_ Douglas spoke in his usual tone, trying not to seem too curious or maybe even concerned. Though, Martin was immediately defensive.

“Yes, it’s all fine.” He insisted.

“Sorry, sorry.” Douglas raised his hands in surrender. He waited, expecting Martin to automatically apologise himself for being so on guard, because that was Martin – he would apologise for _everything._ But no apology came; Martin kept his eyes on the sky, and didn’t utter another word.

                “So, what game today?” Douglas spoke once more, trying to just get Martin back to himself. In the silence there had been a few awkward glances shot his way, which he didn’t like. Martin seemed a little on edge, he was sort of _agitated._ Douglas couldn’t think of a reason why; Martin loved to fly; he wanted to do this job. But today, he had just been preoccupied in his own little world, looking down at his watch several times. Douglas wanted to shout at him telling him he had looked at his watch only a few minutes ago, but he let the man be. Whatever was bothering him so much he clearly didn’t want to talk about.

“Anything’s fine.” He mumbled. Douglas rolled his eyes, already getting irritated with his pilot’s sulky mood. What was _wrong_ with him today? Maybe it was a money problem; he _had_ asked Carolyn if he could take the day off today – for a van job, probably. Though, wouldn’t he say? He hadn’t actually given Carolyn a reason for being off. Maybe he was annoyed she hadn’t allowed him to stay off, and she didn’t actually pay him. Maybe he was upset that he didn’t have the nerve to stay off even though she didn’t pay him. Whatever it was, it was bothering Douglas a _lot._ Because this didn’t _seem_ like a money problem; Martin _would_ have said something, even if it was _subtle._ He definitely wouldn’t be as silent as he has been this morning. And who had he been texting so much?

“How about Tom Swifties?” Douglas asked after a few moments, getting a headache trying to figure out what Martin was so worried about. Was he _worried? Distracted,_ maybe, but _worried?_ Not _really._ He seemed sort of… distressed, upset, but he wasn’t _worried._ Not like he normally was.

* * *

 

“Douglas, you have control.” That was strange. Douglas really, _really_ didn’t like that. This was _definitely_ not about money. Martin had actually _given_ his first officer control, after constantly arguing with him over it. He was just _handing it over._ Of course, Douglas didn’t argue, one, because he didn’t mind having control, and two, because Martin didn’t seem like he was in the mood to be argued with. He clearly just wanted to get home; he wouldn’t _stop_ fidgeting.

                Douglas finally decided to press on the topic when they were making their descent back into Fitton. Martin had seemed to get worse as the flight went on, scratching at the top of his leg irritatingly, and staring at his watch more frequently. “Martin, is there really _nothing_ wrong?” Martin ignored him, not even a string of “I’m fine” came out. “Is it money? The van? What’s _happened?”_ Martin turned to Douglas with a fake smile plastered onto his face.

“N-nothing, Douglas. I know- I know I’ve been a bit _off._ S-sorry.” There was the real Martin, the real apologetic, stumbling man. But there was still _something._ Something Martin wouldn’t reveal, but _why?_ Douglas knew it was best not to carry on this investigation, clearly Martin had said everything he wanted to say, and so that was that. Even Arthur had tried to get something out of him, and it was almost _impossible_ not to accidentally reveal something to _Arthur!_ He had stopped Martin on his way to the toilet, asking whether he was alright because he seemed a bit… a bit rushed. Hurried. Martin shrugged and didn’t say anything, leaving to go to the toilet. Arthur entered the flight deck to report back to Douglas, who shook his head in dismay.

* * *

 

As soon as they arrived into Fitton, Martin practically ran out of GERTI and into the portakabin. Douglas rushed after him, to see if he could maybe get anything out of him now. However, it was obvious by the fact that his captain had his hand in front of his face now sitting in front of his paperwork that he didn’t want to talk or discuss things. He just looked _tired._ He looked worked up, and he _didn’t want_ to do the paperwork that lay before him.

                Douglas was then distracted by the sound of Carolyn, whispering to him from her office. Martin was too caught up in that damned paperwork to hear her, but Douglas looked over quickly, and noticed Carolyn ushering him in. “What is wrong with him?” she began once she had shut the door. “Arthur told me what he was like on the flight; did he really not talk to you?” she asked, seeming concerned. Douglas would have pointed it out, though he was beginning to worry about the illustrious pilot.

“He barely even joined in with the game,” he shook his head. “And he didn’t make such a fuss about losing it, either. He seemed restless, anxious to get back.”

“Hm…” she turned away, thinking. “He _did_ want to take the day off,” she mumbled, more to herself, but Douglas remembered again how Martin had stood up to Carolyn – telling her she _couldn’t_ make him come in. Of course, she replied with a comment that made him clear of his position as a worthless pilot, and he had caved in. Douglas had felt a little sympathy for the man at that moment, but didn’t say anything. “But why?” she questioned again. “Is it because of money?” she turned back to Douglas as if he had suddenly attained all of the answers. He shrugged. “Maybe we should all go out – for a dinner or something.” Douglas was even now more shocked at the idea of Carolyn suggesting something _nice_ for a mere employee. “We’ll do that – he looks skinny- too skinny. It _must_ be money!” she announced, opening her office door. Douglas wondered why he had been asked in when she barely spoke to him, but followed her out of the door to find Arthur sat down on the opposite side of the room to Martin, who was scratching his pen across the paper frantically.

                “Right, we’re going for dinner.” Carolyn announced. Arthur jumped up immediately, revelling in the idea of them all going out for something to eat together. Martin, however, turned around with a sudden horror in his face. Douglas was a little amused; after all, dinner with Carolyn _did_ seem like a daunting task. “Come on, Martin, the paperwork can wait.” Today was full of surprises, Douglas smirked to himself.

“I-I’m sorry, I have plans – I can’t.” he struggled up out of his seat. “I’ve just finished the paperwork.” He nodded.

“Martin, you _have_ to come!” Arthur insisted. Martin smiled sympathetically, but rushed over to grab his coat.

“I- I know, I’m sorry. I just… I have to go.” And with that, he was gone, leaving nobody time to argue with him.

                He hurried out of the portakabin and into the carpark, grabbing his keys from his pocket and almost jogging to his van. He could hear Douglas following him, trying to keep up, but he didn’t slow down. “Martin, what’s _wrong?”_ Douglas almost shouted, catching up now. Martin was aggravated, and didn’t turn to respond, but Douglas managed to catch his arm and he sighed.

“Douglas, let _go.”_

“What _is_ it, Martin?” he let out a breath.

“It’s… it’s really _nothing,_ Douglas, I just have to be somewhere.”

“But why have you been so miserable?”

“Douglas, just let go of me!” Martin struggled from Douglas’ grip, eventually setting himself free. “I’ll see you _tomorrow.”_ He gritted his teeth. Douglas called after him as he walked away, but received no response.


	2. Chapter 2

Martin received the text at around six in the morning, giving him the pub name. He smiled to himself solemnly, staring at his leg as he ran his hand down it. He wondered how he’d gotten away with it; a prosthetic leg. Nobody at MJN had even noticed, apparently, which seemed odd. Though, he _had_ gotten ahead of them in customs every time, and he did have a TSA Notification Card. But didn’t they wonder why he _did_ always _rush_ ahead of them in the airport? Maybe they just didn’t care. Nobody _really_ cared. He sighed, rubbing his hands down his face now. Right, time to get ready.

* * *

 

He’d arrived at the airfield early, just to be on his own for a while. No Carolyn, no Douglas, no Arthur. Well, Arthur wasn’t really the one he didn’t want to see, but he was just too _bouncy._ He didn’t want that today; he just wanted to mourn in peace. That’s what today was about for him, and so that’s what he would do, as he had every year. Suddenly, another text appeared on his phone. It was Daniel, asking him whether he was still going to come. Daniel knew what the answer would be, but he didn’t know how else to start the conversation. Martin knew why Daniel had wanted to text him, because he wasn’t one of those people who could do this on their own. That wasn’t a bad thing, even Martin found it hard, and so Martin didn’t mind chatting to him when he could. Of course, it was only on this day they ever conversed; they never arranged to meet any other day with the others, they never spoke any other day, they just had _this_ day. And Martin was fine with that, because he _couldn’t_ arrange to meet with them; they reminded him too much of the past. Which, granted, was alright, for _one day. This day._ But that was as far as it went for him and for the others. None of them spoke to each other except for _this day._

Of course, Douglas was late. Carolyn had already arrived with Arthur, but Martin had barely uttered a word to either of them, texting Daniel constantly, about nothing, really, just trying to help distract him. That’s what friends did. Because they _were_ friends. They had been better friends, but with everything that’s happened, they are just friends that meet up on one day. That’s how they like it. Martin could tell Arthur seemed a little worried by his silence, but he still refused to say anything. He felt awful, but he felt awful anyway, because that’s what today was about; feeling _awful._

                Douglas and Carolyn had been arguing, God knows what about, but somehow, Martin had been roped into it. “What are you doing? Douglas is _late!”_ Carolyn had spoken. _And?_ He thought to himself. He was always being told to shut up when he joined in, and now Carolyn was _asking_ him to do so. Why should he care? Today he just wanted to get on with _his_ own thing, why weren’t people happy letting him do so when they continuously ask him to stay out of things?

* * *

 

He knew he was receiving strange looks from Douglas on the plane, probably because he had been shooting Douglas some strange looks also. “So, Martin, everything _alright?”_ he just _knew_ that was coming. Douglas had clearly been curious since the start of the day, and now had finally asked. Martin didn’t _have_ to tell him though; Douglas didn’t _need_ to know about his past, and he wouldn’t, because this was just about Martin and Daniel and the rest of them.

 

He’d allowed Douglas control. He knew doing so _would_ arouse suspicion, but he didn’t want to have control. Not today. He was distracted, he was upset; he was feeling a _lot_ of things, as he always had on this day. Douglas had glanced at him with concern, to which Martin just rolled his eyes, irritated.

                He left to go to the toilet, and there was Arthur, eager to find out what had been eating Martin up. Arthur saw how awful Martin looked; pale, weary, and he had obviously had little sleep due to there being bags under his eyes. “Everything alright, Martin? You seem to be in a hurry,” Martin looked at him, trying not to fall for it this time; you could reveal all your secrets to that man simply because of the way he looked at you. Because you knew he didn’t really _understand,_ but he wanted to, and he would try his best to comfort you. But Martin didn’t need to be comforted, of course he didn’t. Maybe he was upset, maybe he _hated_ this, but it had to be done, and he had never told _anybody_ and wasn’t going to start now. So he shrugged, and failed to try and put on a smile, then hurried off to the toilet where he just let himself be. He let himself cry for a bit, not breaking down, just getting some of it over with. Yes, when he arrived back to the flight deck Douglas noticed. Of course Douglas noticed; his eyes were red and sad. Douglas _knew._ But he didn’t say anything, and Martin was grateful for that.

* * *

 

He just wanted to get the paperwork done and leave. That was the plan. Then Carolyn and Douglas had to come up with the ridiculous idea to go out for dinner! _What?_ Martin was frustrated and dropped his pen, standing up. He could just go; he _had_ to be there soon. Everybody had asked where he was off to, but he wouldn’t give them a straight answer, he didn’t _need_ to. He simply grabbed his coat and left.

                Douglas had to follow him. Of course he did. Martin groaned as Douglas grabbed a hold of his arm and stopped him. He managed to stop himself from screaming, because today really _wasn’t_ a good day to be doing this. Angering him. He _would_ snap. “Douglas, let _go.”_ He had insisted, and, after Douglas had tried and failed to get anything out of him, Martin left in a huff. He _was_ going to leave and go and see his friends. Because that was _all_ he wanted today; to reminisce, laugh, and be _sad_ for a bit. But only with them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far! Hope you're enjoying it! All comments etc. are appreciated (I do a little victory dance every time - it's great)


	3. Chapter 3

“Ah, Martin, you finally decide to show up!” Richard smiled a huge smile, standing up from his chair as did the other three men with him at the table. Martin rushed over, grinning and going red slightly with embarrassment. “Not the old leg, is it?”

“No, no, just work…” Martin trailed off, shaking everyone’s hand firmly and securely, and then sitting himself down at the table. They had already got his drink for him; what he ordered every year. Today was the day to go out of his mind drinking, that’s what they all did.

“Ah,” Richard smiled, nodding understandingly. “So you’re still a pilot?” he smiled, looking at the man’s uniform as Martin nodded. The smiles on the men all fell in unison and they were silent for a moment. It was always like this at first; being upset for a bit, and then they would get going with a proper conversation. They would just start off talking about themselves, how they’re doing, and then the reason they were all there on that day. They _hated_ it.

                “Go on, show us the new leg, then!” they all laughed after gulping down a few more drinks, making stupid jokes about the old days together, discussing how much things had changed since then. Then, the attention turned to the wounds they had all received. First they turned to Alex, who had lost below the elbow and had a prosthetic arm – a lot more noticeable than Martin’s leg. But, unlike Martin, Alex didn’t really care about who knew. To be honest, _Martin_ didn’t care; he just couldn’t be bothered answering all the questions that came with the leg. Alex began joking around with the arm, taking it off and scratching the hard to reach places of his back, and then patting the men around the table with it. They all giggled as if they were school children, and then the attention turned to Martin’s leg. He pushed himself out and pulled the leg off, showing it to the group. “Pretty neat,” Daniel remarked.

“Yeah, but it’s a bother having to get through customs all the time.”

“I can imagine,” Richard smirked.

* * *

 

Time went by quite quickly as they talked and talked, laughing at really nothing, because they just wanted to be happy with each other today. But then they _had_ to address the elephant in the room. “So, I guess we should probably… make a toast.” Richard suggested, as he had done every year. All of their smiling, cheerful faces turned serious very quickly, and they nodded gravely. They gently picked up their drinks and raised them in the air, waiting a moment before bringing them all together. “To Adam.” He sniffed, and the rest repeated as the glasses finally met in the middle of the air.

                They were all silent for a moment or two after doing so, but then Alex started smirking again. “God, he would have laughed at us if he were here; us sad saps.” They all nodded and smiled in agreement.

“Told us to go and actually do something rather than moping about!” Richard scoffed.

“He was _always_ trying to find something fun to do! I don’t think I’ve ever met somebody with his energy.” They all chuckled. “He was a good friend, though.” They agreed, smiling.

“Rubbish at birthdays, though,” Martin added, to which they laughed once more, brightening up a little.

“Those presents were always _awful!_ It would be a gift _not_ to get one!”

“And then he had the cheek to moan about _our_ gifts – at least we didn’t get him some useless shitty presents that were from some sort of Christmas cracker!” Alex chuckled, gulping down his beer.

“Yeah, and his jokes seemed to come out of them, too! They were _so bad!”_ they smirked.

“But you couldn’t tell him that – he took pride in being able to tell _good_ jokes.”

“ _Just laugh and nod,”_ Martin smiled, recalling the first time they had all been told to do that by another friend in the RAF.

“Just laugh and nod.” Richard repeated, smiling. “He _was_ a hell of a lot of fun, though! I mean mad as a plank o’ wood, but _great_ fun!” they nodded in agreement. “The things he would have us do – he was a _complete maniac!”_

“Tell me about it! His _crazy_ pranks, as genius as they were, they were also very, _very_ idiotic.”

                They carried on laughing into the night, getting drunk as they continued to remember the old days. And now it was that time. Just before they all parted ways for another year, they had to talk about _this day._ What _actually happened._ The accident. As much as they loved remembering all the funny, humorous things he came up with, they also had to remember what _happened_ to him. They all came out of it alive – maybe with limbs gone and some damage, but he had lost his _life._ Their _best friend –_ all of their best friend – had lost his life so quickly, and he didn’t deserve it. “He was such a great man,” Daniel began. “I just… I don’t understand why _him?”_ That question always cropped up at this meeting, all the time by a different person. This year was Daniel’s turn to ask. They all turned and gazed at him, wondering the same question. _Why did it_ have to be _him, and not anyone of them?_ They all felt so guilty, even though it was _none of their fault._

“I… I was so _devastated-_ t-to hear what… had happened.” Martin coughed. “He helped me out _so_ much; he taught me everything I needed to know!”

“Same here.” Richard nodded. “He helped us all, and we’ll never forget it.” Martin nodded, wanting to say more, but just unable to find the right words to express _how devastated_ he really was. But they all knew. They all understood, because they felt the same. Though, they understood also that Martin and Adam had been the closest; the only real friend Martin had ever made in a long time, because Richard, Alex and Daniel had all already known each other; Martin was on his own. Adam had brought him in, shown him everything, and really _welcomed him._ They were _inseparable._ Richard shared a sorry look with Martin, nodding his head once, to show him he _was_ there, though he knew Martin wouldn’t ask for help.

* * *

 

They had all left the pub, one by one. All except for Martin. He stayed for a while. Richard stayed with him for a while longer, once Alex and Daniel had gone. “Haven’t you got anyone to give you a lift home, Martin?” Martin shook his head.

“Surely there must be _somebody,_ maybe someone from MJN?” Martin scoffed – as if any one of them would pick him up at this hour. Whatever this hour _was._ But Richard was right; he couldn’t go home on his own. He could barely stand up without assistance. He probably would have to call someone. “Right, give me your phone.” Richard demanded. It was hard to say no to Richard, and although Martin refused at first, he soon gave in, too weak to argue. “Which one should I call; Carolyn, Douglas, Arthur, or Simon?” Definitely _not_ Simon, Martin thought to himself. And not Arthur or Carolyn, either; Arthur would ask a _lot_ of questions, and Carolyn would bite Richard’s head off first for calling her at such a time and then bite Martin’s head off for allowing him to do so. That only left Douglas. He couldn’t call Douglas. Douglas wouldn’t come anyway. And if he did, it would just be to have leverage over his pilot. Martin groaned, struggling to come up with a solution to his predicament. It would have to be _Douglas, wouldn’t it?_ Of _course_ it would with his luck. “Martin?”

“D- Douglas.” He sighed, regretting his decision. _Stupid decision._

* * *

 

Douglas wandered into the bar; searching for the man he had come to collect at three in the morning. God, he remembered the last time he had been in a bar this early; not such good memories. He shook his head as if he could shake the memories away, and then concentrated on looking for his pilot. What had gotten into him today? Martin wasn’t known for staying drinking in bars until this time. Well, to be honest, a lot of Martin’s personal life wasn’t shared with Douglas, but he assumed Martin just liked to go home, and he didn’t think he even had the _money_ to get this drunk.

                Eventually, Douglas found the man he was looking for; spread across the chair as if all of his limbs were made of jelly. Wait a minute. Wait. No. _That can’t be Martin._ Douglas thought to himself, as his eyes suddenly noticed the _missing leg,_ and the prosthetic leg to the side of it. Martin didn’t have a _prosthetic leg –_ now that was madness. Still, for some reason, he wandered over to the man, and found that it _really was_ Martin – or a man who looked _very_ similar to Martin, but forgetting one detail; a leg. Martin’s head lulled sideways as Douglas stood over him. “You here to pick me up?” he moaned drunkenly.

“It would seem so, but I don’t think you’re actually who I’m looking for.”

“Douglas, it’s _me. MARTIN.”_ He rolled his eyes. “And _I’m_ the one who’s been drinking all night.” He grinned. Douglas rolled his own eyes and then turned to Richard, who was just walking over from the bathroom.

“Ah, you must be Douglas, nice to meet you.” He smiled, shaking the first officer’s hand. Richard’s gaze turned to Martin. “He’s pretty out of it; he had a hell of a lot to drink, you know? He never normally drinks so much, every other year he’s made sure not to drink _so_ much, but I guess there wasn’t so much of a difference, and he never usually drinks.” Richard smiled to Douglas. “He’s just been a bit upset, you know?” Douglas nodded, not _really_ knowing, but not really liking where this conversation was going. Richard’s gaze turned to the leg on the floor and he laughed a little. “Ha! I can’t believe he forgot to put it back on! Normally he’s very fussy about it – very _hush, hush_ an’ all,” Richard smiled. “I can help you carry him to your car, if you want?” Douglas was still trying to catch up; _Martin – prosthetic leg – since when?_ “Is everything alright?” Douglas was pulled from his thoughts by this Richard – who Martin had never mentioned before – and was forced to answer.

“If you could, thanks.” Douglas nodded, and the pair lifted the now sleeping man up from his chair, Richard grabbing the leg as well.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Martin woke up with a blinding headache, causing him to blink profusely as he sat up, aching every muscle in his body. He groaned miserable, wondering why he was even bothering getting up just now, it’s not like he had to fly anywhere today, and his van jobs had been cancelled. He sighed as he rested the back of his head against the pillows and finally opened his eyes properly, without blinking. He was alarmed by the sight. This _wasn’t_ his attic. Where was he? What had he _done_ last night? Was he in some stranger’s home? _Oh God, oh God._ He panicked, not helping his ruthless headache. He threw the blanket off of him and threw his legs off the side of the bed – oh wait. _No. No, no, no, no, no._ Where was his _leg?_ What had he _done_ with it? Had somebody _taken_ it? No, no, they wouldn’t do that. Would they? _Oh God._ He pushed his face into his hands and moaned, feeling just plain _awful._ The voice that came through the door next didn’t help.

                Douglas waited outside after hearing Martin wake, and then, when hearing no response after asking to come in, he opened the door. Martin was sat at the edge of the bed, head in his hands, _crying._ He’d just got himself so worked up _again,_ and Douglas _still_ didn’t understand _why;_ he still couldn’t piece everything together. Of course, he now understood why Martin always raced ahead of them in customs – the leg – but everything else was a complete mystery to him. Richard had told him as they had taken Martin out to the car that they had just been celebrating something. Well, not celebrating, as Richard had corrected, but then he couldn’t find the right word… Because they _had_ been celebrating in a way.

                Martin brought his head up, after realising Douglas had just been standing in the doorway, watching him cry. “You alright?” Douglas queried, cautiously trying not to irritate the man. Martin turned to face the wall in front of him and rubbed his nose with his hand.

“Been better.” He admitted, nodding his head. Douglas went and sat beside him after placing a glass of water with some painkillers. Martin nodded to him gratefully. “God, how much did I _drink_ last night?” he groaned, rubbing his temple.

“I wasn’t there,” Douglas shrugged. “But judging by the state I found you in and what Richard told me – a lot.”

“Oh- you- you spoke to Richard?” Douglas nodded, he could see Martin was hoping Richard hadn’t revealed any sort of secret or hint to what they had been doing there.

“Don’t worry, he just wanted to help get you into my car – you fell asleep.” Douglas smirked, trying to normalise things. Martin smiled, and then remembered the leg. If he didn’t have it _on…_ Douglas knew, but he hadn’t said anything _yet…_ Douglas watched his friend scan around the room. “Don’t worry, I put your leg in the living room when we got in, I’ll go and fetch it up in a moment.”

“Thank… Thank you.” He sighed, annoyed that Douglas had found out, awaiting all the questions to come with it.

“It’s fine.” Douglas smiled. If Martin wanted to tell him anything, he would, Douglas would just have to wait.

* * *

 

“I know you _want_ to _know,_ Douglas.” Martin smirked as he sat watching TV, glancing over at Douglas who also seemed to be watching TV, but his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“Hm?” he turned.

“About the leg. About the drinking. About _everything.”_

“Martin, if you don’t want to say-”

“It’s not that I _don’t want to,_ it’s just that I _never have.”_ Martin let out a breath. “I have never told anybody about my past, because nobody ever _asked._ Nobody ever saw my leg, so they didn’t know. And the only people that do know I only see once a year.”

“Richard?” Martin nodded.

“And Alex and Daniel.” Douglas seemed intrigued. “I’m not ashamed of my leg, I just know if I show it people will stare and they’ll have all _sorts_ of questions that I just don’t want to answer.”

“I understand, and I don’t need to know, Martin. You don’t have to tell me; it’s none of my business. I was just concerned yesterday, you were _very off._ All I need to know is if you’re alright.”

“Hm…” Martin smiled. “I guess… now. It’s just that day of the year – it’s not a very good day for me.” Martin sighed. He _had_ to tell Douglas; Douglas was his friend, like Adam, Douglas had taken care of Martin. Maybe, yes, he had made fun of him a _lot,_ but Douglas really did look after Martin.

                “I… I used to be in the RAF, you see?” Douglas listened intently. “And I knew nobody when I joined and it was quite scary and… Well, Adam- he really helped me. He taught me everything, and he helped me talk to people; get to know people – that’s how I know Richard, Alex and Daniel. We were such _good friends._ Adam and I- we were inseparable! He was my first _real_ friend, anyway. He was so funny and stupid and ridiculous. He had such a positive attitude, it made it all a lot easier. We all felt indestructible.” He suddenly stopped, clearing his throat. “But… but one day, we all went out. It was so _stupid._ We- we lost- we lost _control_ of the plane – we didn’t know what to do! We were all stuck, and we didn’t know what was going to happen. S-so… so we… we crashed.” He bowed his head. “And by the time they found us… Adam. He… he wasn’t… he couldn’t…” Martin paused, struggling to carry on due to the horrible lump in his throat and the tears forming in his eyes. He turned away from Douglas, placing his fist in front of his mouth, trying to clear his throat. “God, I’m sorry.” Douglas shook his head and went to sit next to the pilot, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Martin. It’s alright.”

“He died, Douglas. He was the only one who did. Richard, Alex, Daniel and me – we were the lucky ones. We escaped with _scratches._ I mean, yeah, I lost a leg. So what? He lost his _life._ And he didn’t deserve to; he was the best man I knew.” Again, he burst into tears, and Douglas finally pulled him into a well needed hug.

“It’s ok, Martin. I understand, but it’s ok. Don’t worry.” Martin sobbed as Douglas held onto the man, trying to comfort him in the best way possible. And, Martin was ashamed to say it, but Douglas _did_ give the _best hugs._


End file.
